Good Night Sleep Tight Don't Let the Bats Bite
by teroinreadsteroinwrites
Summary: A collection of fics about members of the Batfam and sleep. Dick's jealous of a pillow, Jason's pissed at a plushie version of Nightwing, Tim finally understands how his family feels and Damian plays midwife to a horse.
1. Chapter 1

It was raining in Bludhaven. The grey skies had been taunting the city's citizens for days, threatening to release its chilly droplets on the masses. Only tonight did that come to pass, as Nightwing was gliding through the air from one roof top to another, the sky opened up, drenching the city. That didn't bother him though. He'd patrolled in the rain numerous times before, though it was never usually as quiet as it was on this night. He'd been out for hours and had yet to spot a single situation that he felt needed his interference.

He checked the time. It was roughly four in the morning. The sun would be rising behind the clouds in a few hours, and since he wasn't needed, he decided to turn in for the night. He returned to the roof top, where a backpack sat filled with whatever he would need to be a functioning human being the next day.

After retrieving the bag, he did one last circuit through down town, before eventually coming to a stop on the fire escape of an old apartment building. He lifted the window there and quietly slipped in, careful not to disturb the sole occupant of the room, who was sound asleep.

Once he was in, he became more aware about how miserably wet he was. The chill, which had been set off by his physical activity and adrenaline, now set in to his bones, and the wet material clung annoyingly to his frame.

However, that wasn't his primary concern. Instead he was more focused on the bed. The brunette sleeping there was dressed in a pair of yoga shorts and an oversized t-shirt. She was laying on her side, the blanket falling off of her. Her head rested on the top left hand corner of a body pillow. Her left arm was jammed underneath it. Her right arm was slung over top of the polyfill stuffed rectangle, pulling it against her. Her right leg was hitched over it, and Dick couldn't help, but feel envious of the damn thing.

It wasn't like it did anything for her. It didn't try to make sure that she was happy, that she was safe, that she had everything that she could ever want, even though she never wanted to accept it. It didn't constantly have to remind her that it never thought that she was only after his money or that he didn't want anyone else. All it did was sit there, and eventually, she would crawl into bed and cuddle up with it, while Dick was running from rooftop to rooftop in the rain.

Realizing that his thoughts were taking a ridiculous turn, Dick opened his bag. His clothes were damp, but not drenched like everything else. He exited the room, and tossed his clothes in the dryer, before slipping into the bathroom, where he peeled his wet suit off of his body.

He got in the shower and let the warm spray heat up his body and relax his muscles. By the time he got out, he felt a lot more relaxed. He retrieved his clothes from the dryer.

After slipping into his sleep clothes, he gathered the rest of his things and set them in the corner of the bedroom by the window.

He slipped into the bed, and glared at the pillow for a moment, before settling in and allowing himself to drift off.

When he woke up, he knew that he couldn't have been asleep long. It was still dark out, and the sun had only been a few hours away from rising, when he retreated into his girlfriend's apartment. He was also aware of the fact that it was much warmer than before and that a certain dark haired beauty had neglected the pillow in favor of him. Her head rested in the crook of his neck, one arm slung across his chest, her leg hitched up over his waist, with her foot resting on his thigh. He smiled to himself, gently stroking her hair and pressing a kiss to her forehead. He looked over at the pillow, and childishly knocked it off of the bed.

"You're picking poor Richie up," she muttered, not opening her eyes.

"Richie?" he asked. ' _Really?_ _It has a name?_ ' He mentally rolled his eyes at the thing. Replaced by a pillow.

"I would've felt too pathetic, if I named it Dick," she said.

"So you do miss me, when I'm not here," he teased, hiding his slight irritation.

"I do, so quit being jealous of a pillow," she said.

"I am not-"

"I can read you like a book, Dick, even with my eyes closed. Now go to sleep," she said.

Dick sighed at how ridiculous he was being, and closed his eyes. "Love you."

"Love you too. Goodnight."


	2. Chapter 2

"What in the hell?" Tim took in the sight in front of him. The floor of the dorm was covered in books, papers, bags of Doritos and empty cans of monster. The mess was spread out around the edges, but got more concentrated the closer it go to the bed in the corner of the room.

The ruby haired girl sitting there, typing away on her laptop, looked away from the screen, bloodshot eyes taking in Tim and his shocked expression, before taking a sip of the nearest monster and cringing. That one had been there a few days. She took a sip from the new can and went back to typing. "You know making yourself a master id and picking the lock to my room is creepy, right?"

"Babe, what are you doing?"

"Final papers," she said.

"Then I've gotta start studying for that science test, and edit those stories for comp."

"Okay, how long have you been there?" he asked, cautiously making his way through the mess.

"Um…"

He caught a glimpse of her shirt. "That's the same shirt you were wearing, when you told me you couldn't go out to dinner, because you had work to do."

"Okay?"

"That was four days ago."

"There's your answer."

Tim sighed. It was apparent that she hadn't slept properly, nor had she eaten. She was going to burn out or have a psychotic break soon if she didn't stop.

"Don't you think that you should take a break? How about we go get lunch."

"Can't. Plus I'm not hungry?"

"What have you eaten then?"

She lifted her current bag of Doritos.

"That's not gonna work," he said. He made his way towards the door. "I'm going to get you real food, and you're going to eat it, when I come back, even if I have to force you to stop to do so."

Tim went and picked up food from the Chinese place that they frequented, before heading back to his apartment. He grabbed everything he would need for the night and then went back to the dorms. When he entered his girlfriend's room, she was in the same place that he had left her. She didn't even notice him.

He sat down in the desk chair, and pulled his gauntlet out of his bag. He used the computer in it to freeze her laptop. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" she yelled, when her paper disappeared, and the red robin insignia rook its place.

He held up the bag.

"You can go back to your paper once you shower and eat. I don't care what order."

"Timmy, if you know what's good for you, you will let me back in my laptop right fucking now."

"Lex, shower and eat. It won't kill you. You will still get everything done. Do that and you can have your laptop back."

"Ugh!"

Alexis got out of bed, and walked into the attached bathroom, cursing Tim the entire time.

Time smirked. The second he heard the water running, he stood up, cleaning up the mess that she ahd made. As he suspected, once she got in the shower, it took her a long while to get out. He had tossed all of the cans of monster and bags of Doritos. He picked up the books and the papers and organized them. He stripped her bed and remade it with new sheets. He vacuumed, and wiped down the small room and got her clothes ready to head to the wash.

When she finally came back out, dressed in the clothes that he'd tossed in the bathroom, it was like an entirely new room.

"You work fast," she said.

He smirked, walking over and handing her the food that he had dished out onto a paper plate. "Eat. Drink." He handed her a bottle of water.

"This really isn't necessary," she said, taking a long drink.

"Yeah. It is. Is this what I'm like?" he asked, eating his own food.

"Yes. Actually no. You're worse," she said, as she began to shovel noodles into her mouth. "That's why we-" she stopped.

"What'd you put it in?" she asked, eyeing her food suspiciously.

"What?"

"Timmy, the only way we get you to stop is with a sedative. So tell me. What it's in? The water?"

He smirked. "You've got about twenty minutes, before it takes effect, so I'd eat up if I was you."

She sighed. "I hate you," she said, taking his water bottle and drinking it. She then returned to her food. "You're an asshole." She practically inhaled the rest of her food. When she was done, she tossed the plate in the trash.

"See that wasn't so bad now was it?" Tim asked, unlocking her laptop.

Alex could feel the sedative beginning to take effect. "I'm Tim and I think I'm so smart, because I did to my girlfriend, what everyone else does to me, when I overwork myself," she mocked, getting up. She grabbed Tim by his arm.

"What are you doing?" he asked, allowing himself to be pulled.

She flopped onto her bed, pulling Tim down with her. "You're gonna stay her and snuggle until I can't tell that you're leaving for patrol," she said.

Tim chuckled. "Whatever you want," he said, crawling into bed next to her.

It only took about thirty minutes, before she was out cold, but Tim stayed for another two hours, just lying there. Enjoying the peace and quiet.

He carefully slipped out of the bed. She wouldn't have woken up, but still he didn't want to disturb her. With one last glance and a small smile he left. There were a few criminals just waiting for him and his brothers to round them up and hand them over to police.

That night ended up being a little more chaotic than they expected. Ivy, Croc and Scarecrow all decided they should come out to play.

"Did you switch all the coffee with decaf?" Dick asked.

Jason nodded.

"And the water?"

"Pennyworth has mixed it with a strong sedative," Damian said. "Drake is far more tolerable, when he's unconscious."

"I called Alex to take him home, but she hasn't been answering," Dick said.

"What are you boys up to?" Bruce asked.

"The usual. Making sure Timmy doesn't work himself to death," Jason said. "The dead Robin club already has three members. We don't need a forth."

Bruce glared at Jason. Then he sighed. "He does work too much."

"I wonder where he got that from?" Dick teased.

"Uh… guys?" He eyes the four of them, standing in a semicircle whispering. They all looked towards him like deer caught in the headlights. "I'm gonna go home, and go to bed. I'll get back to work on this tomorrow."

"You're going to go home and go to bed at a reasonable hour?"

"Without us having to sedate you?"

"Am I really that bad?" Tim asked. He shook his head. "Don't answer that. Let's just say I had a bit of a reality check today."

"Did something happen?" Bruce asked.

"I do believe that it's around final's week. It is the middle of December," Alfred said, handing Tim a bag. "Do make sure that Ms. Lex remembers to eat."

Tim wanted to ask how he knew, but it was Alfred. He had his ways. "Bird of a feather, Master Timothy."


	3. Chapter 3

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Jason said, taking in the scene in front of him.

After a long night of patrolling and eventually fighting with a squad of Black Mask's goons, Jason was ready to go to bed. He'd expressed some rage, worked off the energy that has been buzzing through his body throughout the day, and in the process made Gotham a bit better.

He had changed in one of his safe houses and walked to the brownstone, belonging to well he wasn't sure what they were. Neither of the two were fond of labels, but they were something and that was enough for him. He'd carried his bag upstairs, to her room, which brings us full circle. He was standing in the door way looking at the bed, where the only person that he trusted completely was fast asleep, cuddling a Nightwing plush doll.

Jason felt his eye twitch. Despite both his and Bruce's dismay shops in Gotham were following that of the base cities of the other leaguers, selling hero themed merchandise. While a Superman and Flash merch had been in the city for years, it took a little longer for Gotham to embrace its dark knight. Now it was everywhere, and not just Batman stuff. Nightwing, Robin, and Red Robin all had their share of fans too, desperate to represent their favorite mask.

Jason knew that this had to be Dick's doing. Prior to dating Jason and finding out that he was Red Hood, the now sleeping baker's favorite hero had been Nightwing. Dick had smiled and laughed, when he found out, and had mercilessly teased the pair since.

Jason cursed under his breath as he got ready for bed. By the time he was ready to crawl under the covers, the Nightwing doll had been freed by its former captor.

Jason picked it up and looked at it. "Fucking Dick," he mumbled, tossing it off the bed, and going to sleep.

The next morning the Raven haired beaut woke up before Jason. There was a ton of shit to get do at the bakery and only one person scheduled to do it, one person, who despite the darkness of it only being four in the morning, noticed the small polyfill stuffed version of Nightwing on the ground from where it had apparently bounced off the wall.

"Really, Jay?"

"Yes really."

Jason had managed to fall asleep in the two hours that he'd been there.

"I'm telling Dickie that you were being a jealous brat."

"Go ahead. Tell him that I'm gonna thou him against a wall next time I see him."

"He'll just flip around and kick off of it and come back at you."

"Whatever."

You're such a baby, and I gotta get ready to go. Go to sleep," they said quickly kissing Jay and retreating to the bathroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Alfred couldn't help, but think about everything that needed done. The floors needed vacuumed and mopped, the house needed a good dusting, the wooden furniture polished, meals prepped for his charge and his wards, inventory and a possible restocking of the food in the kitchen and medical supplies in the cave. Bruce's latest batch of suits was ready to be picked up from the cleaners and someone had to meet with the gardener to discuss the situation with the garden. Damian needed to stick to training in the cave.

There was a knock on the door to his room. Alfred, told the person on the other side to come in, which was quickly followed by a chorus of coughs.

Bruce pushed the door open. "How are you feeling Alfred?" he asked.

"It's just a cold, Sir. Honest. I'm perfectly fine. I can perform my usual-."

"Alfred, you're sick. Take the day off. The manor won't fall into chaos, just because you take a few days off," he said. Bruce was worried. He had never seen the butler actually sick before. He had to have been sick. There was no way that Alfred had gone his whole life without an ailment, but he usually was so good at hiding it or maybe Bruce was just too preoccupied to notice it. He frowned. "I'll have a doctor-"

"Sir, that really isn't necessary. It's just a cold. I'll take some later," he said, resigning himself to the fact that Bruce wasn't going to allow him to do anything at the moment, but when Bruce headed to the office, he could get out and about to at least do some of his errands. He could go to the pharmacy and then swing by the cleaners and maybe the store. He coughed again.

"Rest," Bruce said. "I'll come back and check on you, when I come home," he said, before exiting.

"Once he was sure enough time had passed that Bruce would at least off of the property, he got up and sluggishly made his way to the bathroom. He went through his usual routine, the steam of the shower helping to open up his clogged sinuses. Once he was dressed, he ventured down stairs, only to find Damian, sitting on the couch in the sitting room with Titus on the ground beside him, the kitten curled up next to the beast of a dog.

"You're not to be out of bed," Damian said, not looking up from his book.

"Young sir, I am perfectly capable of fulfilling my duties."

"Regardless of your opinion on the matter, Father has instructed me to make sure that you rest in order to get better. You're a perfectly capable butler, but I prefer to do things myself than have incompetent service due to your ailment."

Alfred was unamused to say the least. "Master Damian-"

"Return to bed. I will bring you tea shortly," he said.

Though he was unhappy with listening to the young master, he couldn't help the small smile that formed, when the younger offered him tea. It was a kind gesture, one he was sure that Damian was unused to and unsure of doing, probably the cause for his unwillingness to look up at him.

"Very well then," Alfred said, going upstairs and returning to bed. Despite his drive to do something, he felt himself nodding off. After a short nap, he awoke to a cup of tea sitting on his nightstand, the cup still steaming. He took a sip and smiled. It was nearly perfect.

He sat and sipped his tea. A minute later, there was another knock at his door. "Come in," he said.

The door opened, revealing Dick.

"Master Richard, what brings you in from Bludhaven?"

"I had a day off, then Bruce told me you got a cold, so I figured I'd drop in and see how you're doing."

"I'm fine Master Richard. It is just a cold. I do appreciate the concern though."

"I brought you this," Dick said, handing over a bag.

"Oh?" Alfred accepted the bag and peered inside.

"I know you don't like the idea of having a TV in your bedroom, so I brought an old portable DVD player and brought up some of your favorite movies, so you had something to do.

"Thank you Master Richard. That is very thoughtful of you."

"No problem, Alfie."

The pair continued to chat for a while, eventually be joined by Damian. The two brothers eventually took their leave reminding, the older gentleman to rest.

"Are you sure you know what you're going, Grayson?" Damian asked his brother.

"I know it's been a while since I lived here, and that my apartment isn't exactly sparkling, but I am capable of cleaning. I used to follow Alfred around all the time, when I was little," Dick said, gathering the supplies out of the closet.

Damian gave him an unbelieving stare, before returning to his book. Dick went through Alfred's regular routine, tidying, dusting, polishing, mopping and vacuuming. He only took a break, when he was interrupted by an amused snort.

"Maybe you should switch out that police uniform for a maid's," Jason said, from the entry to the kitchen, where he stood with bags of groceries. "Couldn't be any worse than that disco bull shit you thought was cool," Jason continued, setting the bags down on the island.

"I looked good in that suit," Dick said.

"Sure," Jason said with a snort. He began to pull everything out and put it away save for what her currently needed.

"You here to see Alfred?" Dick asked.

Jason nodded. "I figured I'd make him some soup, and since none of you can cook, and Alfred wouldn't approve of you guys eating take out, I guess I'm feeding you too," he said.

"Soup and dinner, huh?"

"So I did the rest of the shopping too."

Dick smiled. "That's nice of you Jaybird."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't want to subject anyone to your cooking," he said.

Just then, Tim's voice carried throughout the house. "Yeah, I'll take you right out. Some of the topiaries just need a trim or maybe they could be transformed to a new shape, but others are a total loss," he explained.

"What happened again?" one of the gardeners asked.

"Some people just don't appreciate the gardens," Tim said pointedly.

Dick and Jason both waited for it, and each smirked at the –tt- that came from the sitting room.

Tim set down a few bags in front of the stairs that went from the kitchen up the second floor near Alfred's room, and handed a few hangers off to Dick. "I'll take those up in a minute," he said, before continuing out back.

"What the hell did he buy?" Jason asked.

Damian picked up one of the bags and dug around in it. "Cold medicine, cough drops, a vaporizer, medicated chest rub, and surgical masks."

"Surgical masks? Really? Is the replacement afraid of a little germ?"

"Alfred won't be happy if I go in there without one," Tim said, returning to the kitchen.

"Delicate little Drake," Damian sneered.

"Dami, leave Tim alone. Tim, of course Alfred's gonna worry. You don't have a spleen. It's kind of a big deal if you get sick."

"You're missing an organ? Did Croc rip it out?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "Widower stabbed me, so I had to have it removed."

Jason nodded.

Tim pulled out one of the masks and tied it on, before picking up his bags.

Alfred was in the middle of _Casablanca_ , when there was another knock on his door.

"Come in," he called.

Alfred's eyes widened slightly, when he saw Tim and his bags full of stuff.

"Hey, Alfred," he greeted.

"Hello, Master Timothy. What's all of this?" he asked.

"I brought you some medicine. I wasn't sure, which one you preferred, so I brought a few, along with some cough drops, tissues, and I figured that a vaporizer would be helpful," he said, setting the bag of medicine down beside Alfred. He plopped down on the floor, opening the box for the vaporizer. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"I'm fine Master, Timothy. It's just a minor cold," he said. "It would probably be best though if you limited your time in here."

"I'm good. I've got my mask, am up-to-date on my vaccinations, and since there's been a bit of a flu outbreak on campus, I've been taking a daily antibiotic. I'll be fine," he said.

Tim nodded, before leaving to fill the vaporizer, and get Alfred some water to take his medicine with. He added the scented pads and plugged it in, making small talk while he worked.

Is there anything else that you need?" Tim asked.

Alfred shook his head. "Thank you, Master Timothy."

"No problem, Alfred."

"I just wiped down that counter."

"Get the fuck out of my way."

"I'm not eating that."

"Then starve. I don't give a shit."

Tim walked in to find Damian and Dick glaring at Jason, who seemingly couldn't care less as he added more things to a pot on the stove.

"I need more furniture polish," Dick said to Damian. "We'll go pick you something up for you to have for dinner," he said.

Damian seemed appeased by that and followed Dick out to the garage.

Tim made himself some coffee and then sat at one of the stools at the island.

The two sat in comfortable silence with a few comments and conversations here and there.

Despite the appearance of the others, Alfred was still slightly surprised, when Jason opened his door, a bowl of soup in his hands. "I doubt you've eaten," he said, "And the last thing I'd trust any of the others to do is cook," he continued.

Alfred sat up, knowing how poor of an idea it was to go without eating, especially, when taking medicine. He happily took the bowl and spoon.

"Very good, Master Jason," Alfred said, appreciatively. He was glad that at least one of the boys could fend for themselves in the kitchen.

Jason smiled. He didn't linger long, waiting until Alfred was finished and then quickly taking the bowl down to the kitchen, that way Alfred could relax and get some rest.

Alfred appreciated the quiet that followed. Stomach full, and body warmed from the soup and the medication he took, allowed him to fall into a peaceful slumber.

When Bruce returned home, he quickly made his way upstairs, dropping his stuff off in his study and then changing into some casual clothes. Once he changed, he peered into Alfred's room, finding the butler, sleeping soundly.

He then made his way to the kitchen, where the sound of his boys' voices and the smell of food was originating from.

"Demon, if you don't get the fuck out of here," Jason warned.

"Quit threatening Dami," Dick scolded.

"Dami, quit antagonizing Jason."

Tim smirked.

"Stop with your foolish grinning, Drake."

"I'm not-"

"Boys," Bruce said firmly gaining all of their attention. "Settle down. Alfred's resting."

The group all relaxed. "Dinner will be ready in fifteen," Jason said.

"Go wash up," Bruce said. "I'll set the table."


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm thankful that you're around," Alfred said. "Master Damian's ever growing collection has become too much for me to handle alone without neglecting some of my other duties."

"I'm sure you would've managed," I said, taking the thermos full of coffee that he handed me. "It's peaceful here." He raised a brow.

"I take care of animals, not the humans, so it's peaceful. The clinic was so stressful, and there were just so many tragic cases around here."

"I'm not surprised. You have a kind soul, so much unlike your mother."

I chuckled.

"That's beside the point though. What I'm saying is that it must've taken its toll seeing all of those poo creatures."

I nodded. You can't help every animal that walks through your door. If you can't manage to turn your emotions off, there comes a point, where it's too much and I had reached that.

"Well we should get on with our work for the day. Breakfast will be served in two hours' time, please wash up beforehand this time."

"I make no promises," I said with a teasing smile, leaving the manor to head out back to the newly constructed stables. Unfortunately, Batman and Robin were too late to save the owner of the four beautiful horses now residing in them. Well… five technically. One of the mares was pregnant, and about ready to go. Bruce had managed to create a system that allowed me to monitor her and her vitals no matter, where I was on the manner.

I was gonna start staying out in the stables, just in case. After all, I was the only one who knew what the hell they were doing.

I entered the stables and greeted all of the babies. They didn't have names yet. Damian was still working on that.

"Hey Big Mama," I greeted once I finally got to the pregnant mare.

"Despite your endearing tone, your words are still insulting."

"Son of a-" I looked up. Damian was sitting in the rafters above the stall, Pennyworth curled up on his lap. Titus was sitting outside of it. "Damn it, Damian! What the hell are you doing?" I asked, hand over my heart as if hat would maybe keep it from pounding out of my chest. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his head was down, eyes closed.

By my calculations, he and Bruce has only been home for roughly three hours. "Did you fall asleep up there?"

"Yes."

I sighed. "Damian, go to bed. I'll be here all day, and then I'll camp out here tonight. Will that make you happy?"

"For now, that will suffice," he said. He rose, and of course made me nervous in the process, picked up Pennyworth and gracefully, made his way to the floor, where Titus joined him. The group then made their way back to the manor.

The next morning I woke up miserable. The air mattress that I had hauled out had a hole and was flat. It had been since roughly two in the morning. I had been waking up in regular intervals to check on the mare, intervals that Damian had set.

I forced myself up off the ground, and walked over to her stall. "Morning, Big Mama."

"Persephone."

Once again, I damn near jumped out of my skin. I glared upwards. "You were supposed to stay in the house," I said.

"You were supposed to be monitoring her," he said.

"I was," I argued.

"Yet you slept through an interval."

"I woke up every two hours."

"Not without an alarm."

I looked at my phone. Sure enough my alarm was disabled.

"I know I woke up, so why did you disable it?"

"A test."

"A test?" I shook my head. "A damn test. Damian, go to bed, and when you get home tonight, stay in the house."

After we repeated the process the next morning I gave up. I asked Alfred to find me another air mattress and some blankets.

That night I ws working on the name plate that I was going to hang abover Persephone's stall, when he walked in.

"On the air mattress," I told him.

"Your craftsmanship isn't bad," he said, looking over my work.

"Bed."

We continued like this for a week. At no point did she show signs of foaling. But finally, it was time. After dinner, once all the bats and birds flew out into Gotham, Persephone started to get restless. "Right on time," I said to Damian, when he finally entered the stalls that night. Persephone had just entered the second stage of labor, meaning in about thirty minutes the little one would be taking its first breath.

It was funny. Damian quickly became excited and nervous, seeming more childlike than I had ever seen him.

By the time the sun finally rose, Mars was happily nursing from his mother. (When I questioned the switch from Greek to Latin, I was told that both civilivations were "Equally admirable and foolish.")

"It appears you two had a busy night," Bruce said, coming up behind us, Uncle Alfred following him.

"So did you from the looks of it," I said, looking at his bruised jaw.

"Mr. Cury had a bit too much to drink last night," he said.

He seemed to forget that I didn't talk to anyone other than animals and the family. "Did you hear that Mars? Bruce got punched by a sixty year old lush.

"Well, baby here is all checked out, so I'm going to shower and go to bed. In a bed," I said, excitedly. All I wanted to do was go sleep in my own damn bed.

"You deserve a rest, dear," Uncle Alfred told me. "I'll have a late breakfast for when you awake."

"Thanks," I said, pecking him on the cheek.

I walked outside and there was a massive red, fury, winged thing out there looking at me. "What the hell?"

"I see you've met Goliath. I need you to look at his wing, it seems a-"

"Bed," I said, throwing my hands up. "I am going to bed."


	6. Chapter 6

I liked the idea of this much better than my execution, but oh well. They can't all be winners. This is kind of Under the Red Hood-ish in timing.

* * *

A terrified scream.

The bang of a gunshot.

A speeding car, burning tire as it rushed away from whatever was happening on the other side of the thin piece of glass that separated the comfortable tranquility of the small apartment from the chaos of the city outside.

A piece of glass, marred by years of dirt. A piece of glass unable to keep out the sounds of people in the alley beneath it. A piece of glass with a hole in the upper left hand corner, the hole serving as the center of a web of cracks.

Taylor cursed this piece of glass as she stared up at the ceiling of her room. Following a straight line from the hole in the window was one in the ceiling, where she assumed the bullet that had pierced both had stopped. The yellowed paint around it was cracking and chipping just like her patience. Since the gunshot, she had been unable to sleep. Every noise caused a feeling of panic to rise in her the adrenaline keeping her awake. She had attempting sleeping the living room, but the sounds of her fellow tenants walking in the hall way didn't help.

By the time the sun came up the noise had hushed. Unfortunately for Taylor, it also met that it was time for her to go to work. With a tired groan, she rolled out of bed heading to the bathroom to shower and get ready for her shift at the diner.

Half way through her work day, Taylor was dragging. The days of minimal sleep were taking their toll on her.

"Taylor!"

Taylor was startled at the sudden exclamation, looking down just in time to see that the yolks of the eggs she was making had completely cooked through.

"Damn it!" She swore, sliding them off of the grill and into the garbage, cracking two more in their place.

"Are you okay?"

Taylor looked over her shoulder at Jason a regular at the diner. "Yeah. Sorry. It'll be another minute."

"You look like shit."

"I'm tired," she responded. "There was a fight or something I don't know in the alley beside my building. There's always something really. It's like a damn criminal hotspot or something. Whatever. Some asshole shot through my window, and I haven't been able to sleep through the night since."

"You ever think about finding somewhere new to live?"

Taylor shrugged. "I've thought about it, but it's not like I'm a millionaire, and I mean it's Gotham, even the rich people are attacked and robbed by the crooks here. There isn't really a 'safe' place."

Jason's fist clenched under the counter though his face remained indifferent. "Fair enough," he replied.

"Maybe I'll check the papers, when I'm at my mom's. She's having surgery, so I'm gonna go help her out for the next two weeks. Which means you'll have to put up with someone else making your food for the week," she said setting the plate down in front of him. "I don't want to hear that you've been a big baby about it like last time."

"I was not a baby. She burnt my toast. Toast is literally the easiest part, and she fucked it up."

Taylor rolled her eyes. "Behave."

"Alright you three, pop quiz. Which one of you can tell me why you're not ending up like the rest of them?" Red Hood asked, gesturing to the twenty or so bodies littering the alley behind him. In front of him, three of the thugs involved in the gang fight (that he may or may not have orchestrated) cowered.

Red Hood had showed up and single handedly slaughter both groups, but not in his usual style. He had been quick, efficient and for the most part relatively quiet.

No one responded

He sighed kneeling down in front of them waving his gun between three of them. "No one?"

"Still no response."

"You are alive, because I need you to make sure that every bastard out there knows that this is Red Hood's territory now, and if I hear that any of you scum bags so much as breath in this direction, it will be the last thing that you ever do. Do you understand?"

They whimpered.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"We understand!"

He stood up, holstering his gun.

"Good. Now get out of here."

The three scrambled to their feet and bolted.

Red hood looked at the scene around him. "I hate cleaning up."

"Breakfast delight," Taylor said, setting a plate down in front of Jason.

"You're chipper," Jason said.

"You sound like hell," she told him.

"Family meeting," he said tiredly.

Taylor raised her brows at him, but he offered her no further explanation.

She shrugged it off.

"How's your mom?"

"She's fine. Everything went well. My sister's up there now."

"You finally get some sleep."

"Oh my God yes. She lives out in the sticks so like there's no one around. Just silence. I must've brought some of it home with me too, because there was so quiet last night. Literally, there was nothing going in that damn alley."

Jason nodded mouth full. "I'd watch it. I heard that Red Hood has been lingering round there. Everyone else is too scared to do anything."

"Well as far as crime lords go, Red Hood is at least somewhat respectful of quiet hours, so I'll take it."

Jason rolled his eyes. ' _Respectful of quiet hours._

"You know what was weird though?"

"Hm?"

"My land lord has literally never fixed a fucking thing since I moved in there, but I had a new window, and not even like new glass, but like someone went in and installed a new double paned window with a lock that actually works. When I told him about it, he told me to tape a garbage bag over it."

"A garbage bag?"

Taylor nodded. "He's an asshole."

"What's his name?"

"Ryan."

"Ryan...?"

"Slater."

"Douchey name." A name that had been added to the list of people Red Hood was gonna have to visit in his new territory.

"It fits."

"Taylor?"

"Hm?"

Jason pointed to the griddle, where a pancake forgotten.

"Shit!" she swore, flipping it only to find the other side completely blackened, "Son of a bitch!" She tossed it in the garbage pouring batter for another.

Jason chuckled.

"Shut up it's not funny."

"I'm not laughing," he lied, shoving a bite of food into his mouth and smirking at her.


	7. Chapter 7

One would thing that after raising the young acrobat since the tender age of eight that Alfred would be accustomed to his unusual sleeping habits. Not the case Alfred was still surprised by Dick's ability to curl up on the various precarious perches in the cave and fall asleep.

Even now as he looked up and saw the grown man in one of the nooks in the cave, snoring away.

Dick was still in his Nightwing costume, sans mask. His arms were crossed over his chest, legs stretched out in front of him crossed at the ankles. His head hung and a small dribble of drool hung from the corner of his mask.

"He's been up there for over two hours," Bruce said, coming up beside the butler.

"Reminds you of when he was young doesn't it?"

"It does," Bruce agreed, having a vision of Dick in his Robin uniform in a nook on the other side of the cave. He wouldn't fit there now, though Bruce wouldn't put it past Dick to at least try.

The pair smiled fondly at the first Robin.

"How are you going to get him down?"

Bruce sighed, when Dick was young, it was easy to climb up there and just toss him over his shoulder and climb back down.

Now he would have to wake him, but do so in a way that didn't startle him.

"For now, let's just let him sleep."


	8. Chapter 8

Damian Wayne was a child. It was easy to forget in a family where homework was followed up by martial art training and detective work, a home where a midnight snack was a protein packed meal designed to help build muscle and replenish energy after a long night of rounding up Gotham's criminals.

But now as Damian slept, curled up against Dick's side, it was impossible to see the small assassin as anything other than a child. Sleep removed any trace of the haughtiness, cynicism or blood lust that made the twelve year old seem much older than twelve.

He looked innocent, untouched by the fight a mere hour before or any of the horrors he must've suffered in his short life.

Dick looked at Damian and smiled softly, running a hand through his hair.

"Almost looks like a real kid," Jason commented.

"He is a real kid," Dick shot, glaring at the second oldest.

"He's a demon."

"Jay," Dick scolded.

"I'm with Dick," Tim said, nodding towards the oldest of the four. "Damain's a child. An angry, murderous, highly trained, remorseless, cold, cruel- Nope, he's a demon."

"Master Damian," Alfred spoke up, "Is growing and needs proper rest. Master Richard, could you please carry the young sir to bed?"

"No need, Pennyworth. I'll take myself." He glowered at his brothers. "You three are obnoxious inconsiderate gits, and make it impossible to sleep."

He stood up and stretched with a yawn, leveling them all with one last glare."

"Night, Dami," Dick said.

"Goodnight, Grayson, Pennyworth."

"Night Demon," Jason chirped.

"Rot in hell, Todd." 


	9. Chapter 9

"Shhhhh It's okay. It's okay. Calm down, Jay. There's no one here. No one, but me. I'm here. Settle down. Listen to my voice."

Jason's eyes stopped their frantic searching and settle down on the blue eyed blonde in front of him.

There was something about those blue eyes that immediately started to calm him. He would never admit it, but the color was comforting and familiar. So many times before had he been met with blue eyes after being pulled out of a less than favorable situation.

There was something else about these eyes though, about this shade of cerulean that was different. Instead of building his walls up and ignoring the nightmare that had once again left him shaken to his core, Jason brought his head to rest on the blonde's shoulder and allowed the tears to fall.

Warm arms embraced him, rubbing his back gently and murmuring soft reassurances to him.

"He can't get you. He will _never_ get you."


	10. Chapter 10

"This is stupid and juvenile," Damian said, as he watched Dick creep towards Jason with stealth that only a bat could possess.

Dick glared at Damian, putting a finger over his lips, signaling that Damian shush.

Tim was sitting in one of the recliners, leaning on the book in his lap to watch the show.

Jason was fast asleep on the couch. No one knew what exactly what happened the night before. They'd been patrolling and Jason had suddenly gone silent. He removed his tracker and disappeared. Later he showed up at the cave, drunk off his ass.

Dick was armed with a can of whipped cream and a feather.

He carefully filled the second robin's palm with whipped cream, all of them wincing at the sound. Jason didn't even flinch, causing Dick to let out a relieved breath. Dick then moved to stand behind Jason's head. He pulled out the feather and tickled, Jason's face with it. Jason's faced scrunched up, twitching to stop the tickling sensation. His hand twitched once. It twitched again. Then finally BAM!

The palm full of whipped cream hit him right in the face. It hit _Dick_ right in the face.

Damian rolled his eyes, but cracked a smile none the less. Damian had known that Jason was up the second they walked into the room

Tim burst out into laughter, doubling over in his chair. Jason smirked up at the eldest of the boys. "Nice try Goldie," Jason said.

Dick was still blinking in surprise. He slowly brought a hand up and wiped the whipped cream away from his eyes.

"Don't even think about fucking with the person with a hangover."

Dick looked from his hand to Jason and then back.

Tim held up his book, prepared for was about to happen.

Dick smirked, before jumping on top of Jason, trying to smash his hand in the younger's face.

"You dick!" Jason yelled.

Dick cackled with glee, wrestling to get his hand closer to Jason's face.

An obnoxious cough caused all of the boys to turn their attention to Bruce, who was standing in the entry way. He was dressed in a suit and held his brief case in his hand. Everyone froze in place.

"Don't get whipped cream on the couch," he said, before leaving for work.

Dick used the break in the action to launch a surprise attack on Jason, hitting him right in the face with the whipped cream.

Tim began laughing all over again.

"Fools," Damian said, arms crossed over his chest looking down at his brothers.

Dick and Jason shared a brief glance. Dick let Jason up, who grabbed the can of whipped cream off of the floor. He filled his palm with it, passing it off to Dick. They each had a glint in their eyes. Dick's was mischievous, Jason's evil.

"RUN, DEMON!" Tim yelled, hopping over the back of the recliner, dodging Dick's strike.

Damian ducked under Jason, who lunged at him, and followed Tim out of the living room, Dick and Jason right on their heels.


	11. Chapter 11

Tim had come to detest the chair that he was currently seated in. The cushions were worn and offered little in the way of support, the vinyl was discolored and cracked, and the arm rests were hard and uncomfortable. In addition to poorly serving its function as a seat, the chair was less than pleasing to the eye.

The mahogany looking veneer was chipped and peeling, revealing the particle board underneath. The vinyl had probably been mint colored, when it was new, but had yellowed to an ugly green.

Tim shifted in the chair as if it was suddenly going to make the stupid piece of furniture more comfortable this time around, then continued to type away on his laptop. Every once in a while, his eyes would drift upwards to look at the figure laying in the bed.

For three days, Tim had forced himself to remain in the chair, listening to each beep of the heart monitor, examining every cut, every bruise, every burn and stitch gracing the skin on the unconscious individual.

A soft knock on the door pulled Tim away from the screen.

"Alfred," he greeted with a sad smile.

"Master Timothy, you should go home," Alfred said, getting straight to the point.

"Does Bruce have something?"

"Master Bruce has told you not to concern yourself with-"

"How? How, Alfred? How am I not gonna be concerned? Three days. Three days and still nothing. All because of that two-faced bastard! I'll go home, when Bruce has something or they do."

Alfred sighed, glancing back at the bed. "We are all aware of the situation, Master Timothy, but I shall relay the message. In the meantime, I've brought you some of your belongings and dinner," Alfred said, handing Tim a bag. "Do remember to eat, when I'm not here, and if I were you, I'd request a cot."

"Thanks, Alfred," Tim said, taking the bag. "I will. I promise."

"I must be getting back to the manner. Please do stay out of trouble, and when the time arises, please convey my best."

"I will. Thanks again."

"It was no trouble, Master Timothy."

With that Alfred left, leaving Tim to try to settle into the chair once more.

When I woke up, the first thing I registered was pain. My head hurt, my arms, my ribs, everything. I felt like I had gotten hit by a bus.

The second thing that I registered was that I was not in my own bed. I opened my eyes and looked around. ' _Hospital. Great,'_ I thought.

My eyes fell upon Tim. He was slumped over in his chair, head resting on his folded arms on my bed. ' _Idiot_ ,' I thought. That was going to kill his back and neck.

I sighed. ' _What the hell happened?'_

I remembered that there had been an explosion, but I had gotten back up. I had run. I had called Tim, and then it all went black."

I realized that I should probably find the button to call a nurse, but the nurse would probably wake up Tim, and knowing him, he hadn't slept in days.

Still everything hurt and if waking up Tim was the price I had to pay for some pain killers then so be it. I could probably convince him to go back to sleep later. I hit the button.

A minute later, a guy in a pair of scrubs walked in.

"Looks who's awake," he said happily. "Do you know where you are?"

"Damn hospital," I said. My voice came out scratchy and barely above a whisper. I scowled.

"You've been out for a week, hun," he said. "Your voice is gonna be scratchy. I have to go get your doctor. I'll-"

"Wake him up, so that I can yell at him. Whisper harshly. Whatever."

"I'll wake him up on my way out, but I have to check somethings first. You need to relax."

I'd relax, when Tim did. I nodded.

On his way out, the nurse nudged Tim. Immediately he was alert.

"Go home, Timmy," I said, before he could bombarded me with waves of misplaced guilt and apologies. "Sleeping in that chair has to be bad for your back, and it can't be comfortable."

"Two-Faced almost kills you, and-"

"Really? Two-Face? I was nearly taken out by Two-Face? I was hoping for better than that."

"What the hell do you mean better?"

"Higher profile, more dramatic."

"Clearly you suffered more head trauma than originally thought."

"I wouldn't mind being killed by the crazy plant lady. At least she's hot."

Tim rolled his eyes, but smirked. My comments were helping to put him at ease.

"Who got him?" I asked.

"Nightwing and Robin," he answered, glancing towards the open door. "My sources tell me that Red Hood and Batman both went after the Joker."

"Nasty," I said. Just thinking about the situation caused me to tense up, I could only imagine the actual hostility and tension in the air at the scene.

"'Very," he agreed.

Just then an older man walked in, who I assumed was my doctor. The conversation basically consisted on these are your injuries, you'll be here at least another week and then we'll talk about rehab. It ended with a dose of pain meds, so it was worth it.

"You'll probably feel drowsy as a result. That's normal. You need rest to heal."

I nodded.

"I'll be back to check on you."

He left and I looked at Tim. "Go home. I'm just going to fall asleep again."

"I'll leave, once you fall asleep."

I beckoned Tim closer.

He leaned in and I flicked him in the head. He scowled, before taking my hand and kissing it.

"You're hopeless," I said, starting to feel the pull of sleep.

"And you're sleepy," he said.

"Yeah."

"Go to sleep, babe."

"Go home."

When I woke up again I still felt like shit, but I was a lot more aware, which was more than I could say for Tim who was slumped in that damn chair.

' _Stupid boy_ ,' I thought, running my hand through his hair.


	12. Chapter 12

There was a time, where the sound of someone in their apartment in the middle of the night would've terrified Ripley. That time was of course, before they became involved with Dick Grayson, before they found out about his night time vigilantism. Now, silence in the middle of the night was scary, because Dick snored and if the house was quite that meant her was still out there fighting God knows what, and the years had not numbed the fear Ripley felt knowing that.

However on this occasion, Dick was right beside them, one of their four cats, Mochi, curled up on his chest, tailing coming dangerously close to flopping into Dick's mouth.

With an annoyed sigh and meows of displeasure from both Benny and Butters, Ripley got out of bed, bare feet padding against the floor of the apartment. The lights were on the kitchen, and peek around the door frame revealed Damian standing there, making tea.

"Dami, what are you doing?" Ripley asked.

"Preparing tea," the youngest Wayne answered.

"It's the middle of the night."

"I'm aware."

Something was off. Damian was acting normal, but it was forced. He looked tired and his voice let Ripley know that he was upset.

"Dick's asleep," Ripley said.

"I've gathered that. If he was awake and unsure of who was in his home, he most certainly wouldn't have let you come out, especially not alone and unarmed."

Ripley shook their head, shooing Damian out of the way and reaching up into the cupboard for a new blend of tea leaves that they'd gotten earlier in the week.

Damian hopped up on the counter, carefully ducking as Ripley dug through the cabinets for mugs and infusers.

"Why are you up?" Ripley asked.

"Couldn't sleep," Damian finally answered.

Ripley was a kind person, not always the most patient, but far more so than a majority of the people that Damian had grown up around. Ripley was thoroughly average, but Damian didn't hold that against them. Despite their watered down bloodline, average physical prowess and standard up bringing they had taken the life of the partner of a vigilante and the partner of a Wayne extremely well. They were hard working, compassionate, fiercely loyal, but at the same time were well aware of everyone's faults including theirs. As a result Ripley refused to take crap from anyone, but for some reason, Damian respected it in them.

"Really? I thought you just traveled a half hour to Bludhaven in the middle of the night for shits and giggles."

Ripley paused their motions. "Dami, how'd you get here?" they asked.

"I drove."

Ripley groaned. "And I'm gonna assume Bruce has no clue you're here."

"Father knows I'm capable-"

"You're father's going to hypothetically skin you," Ripley corrected. "What happened?"

"I had a nightmare," he answered, taking the mug he was offered. "This smells cheap."

"Not all of us were born into billion dollar families," Ripley reminded him. "What about?"

Damian remind quiet, staring into the mug watching as its contents changed color.

"Come on, D. Can't help if I don't know what wrong?"

"How can you help? You've never been killed by your own clone."

There it was. "No, I can't say I have," Ripley agreed. "Bu I can say with certainty that it will never ever happen again," they continued. "Damian, no one, absolutely no one is ever going to let anything take you from us again. D, they're just dreams, sucky dreams, but dreams. It's not real and it never will be."

Damian sipped his tea. "And I can say with certainty that I'm never allowing you to pick tea again."

Ripley relaxed. Damian seemed to be significantly less ruffled than before. "It's not that bad," Rip said, taking a sip. "Next time you can pick it."

Damian smirked smugly.

"I spent good money on that too," Ripley complained, cleaning up the mess.

"Alright, kiddo, come on."

"What?" Damian questioned.

"You're with us tonight. Step one of the keeping Damian alive plan."

"I'm not some toddler, who-"

Ripley slung an arm over his shoulder, pulling him along with them. Ripley knew being near Dick would calm Damian further, and that he may even be able to go to sleep.

They shook Dick awake. "Scoot over, Dickie. We got company."

"What?" he groaned confused. "Dami, is-"

"Nightmare," Ripley explained.

Dick's face softened, and he scooted over, annoying Mochi.

Damian grumbled, be reluctantly crawled next to Dick.

Ripley crawled on their side of the bed, shooting a quick text to Bruce to let him know, where Damian was. Butters got up and padded around again, before making herself comfortable on Ripley's back. "Night boys," Rip said, receiving replies equally as tired as theirs.

A short while later and Rip still wasn't asleep. Almost, but not quite. They could hear the quiet conversation between Dick and Damian, Dick affirming their earlier sentiments.

"You picked well, Grayson," Damian eventually said.

Ripley could practically hear the smile in Dick's voice. "Yeah, I did."


	13. Chapter 13

_Bruce, I forgive you for not saving me._

The words echoed in Bruce's head, keeping him awake. Being awake at this hour wasn't unusual, but the fact that he wasn't able to focus on any of his cases was. Despite all of his efforts to concentrate, he couldn't. Every time he thought that he cleared his mind of that sentence, it came back with more impact than the time before.

He couldn't believe it, couldn't process it, couldn't make sense of it.

This inability to comprehend a simple sentence was why he was sitting in the living room in the wee hours of the morning, watching the fire as it flickered in its place.

"Bruce, what the hell are you doing?"

Bruce looked away from the fire towards the entry way, where Avery, the older of Alfred's two daughters was standing, having just come home after her shift as front desk supervisor at the Royal Plaza Hotel.

Avery, unlike her sister had nor quarrels about her father's role in the Wayne household and had spent many of her school breaks visiting the manor. More recently, she had opted to move to America to get closer to her father, but getting set up was a difficult process and she refused Bruce's help monetarily, so until she could get a real job and find a suitable house, she was working at the hotel and living in the manor.

"Just couldn't sleep," he answered. "Why are you up?" he asked.

"I just got home." She eyed him skeptically. That was a pretty obvious observation and Bruce, Batman, had just missed it entirely.

"Lily got the flu, and I didn't have anyone else to cover, so I had to go in and holy shit, you must be really bothered by something." She sat down on the couch, kicking off her heels and putting her feet up on the table. "What's going on?" she asked.

"It's nothing. You should get some rest. You've had a long night."

Avery groaned, annoyed. "Bruce, we've been over this. This whole emotionally constipated brooding boy bullshit isn't healthy, and it's only attractive to fourteen year old girls. Talk."

Bruce sighed. Avery was nothing if not persistent. She was very good at reading people. Even with all of his training it was unlikely that he would be able to lie to her. He could outwait her, if he really tried, but he wouldn't. He never did.

Alfred took care of everyone in the manor, and while he was no slouch, when it came to mental care, he had nothing on Avery. She was like the unofficial Bat Shrink.

"I'm sure Alfred has made you aware that Red Hood has finally revealed his identity."

She nodded. Her father hadn't told her who. Bruce had made it very clear that he didn't want any of the other members of the family knowing yet.

"It's Jason."

Her eyes widened and her mouth flopped open for a second, before she closed it. Once the shock passed, she let out a wry laugh. "Well, if I was gonna put money on which of your kids would tell Death itself to bugger off, I would've put it on Jaybird."

Bruce managed a small smile at that.

"What happened?" she asked.

"He forgave me," Bruce answered.

Avery nodded. That wasn't exactly what she had expected, but it did fall in line with Jason's personality.

"For not saving him," he elaborated.

"Well, there wasn't-"

"But I could have done something! I should have. If I had-"

"Just been faster?" Avery supplied. "Just realized it sooner? Let me guess. If only you had known then what you know now?"

Bruce didn't respond, shooting her a hard look.

"You'll kill yourself thinking that way. It doesn't help anything."

"I used to be a lifeguard," she continued. "When I was in California for University. It was easy money. I was fairly good at it, then one day I lost a girl.

"We were busy, probably too busy. We were down a guard, and had a lot going on. She was six, and she fell in. I didn't even hear her. I was busy yelling at some kids, who were running on the deck. Then her mother screamed, and I saw her shadow at the bottom.

"I jumped in. I pulled her out, and I worked on her. I did CPR, until the paramedics got there, but I was too late.

"There was an investigation, and they found that there was nothing us guards could've done. I wasn't at fault. They _commended_ me for my efforts and put me back to work. I spent every second replaying that day, how I could've changed it, where I messed up, what I could've done differently.

"One day, while I was working, a woman came in, and it took me a minute to recognize her. It was the girl's mother. She came in and thanked me. Thanked me for trying so hard to save her daughter. I failed. I fucked up. She lost her kid, because of me and she _thanked_ me.

"You know why?"

Bruce remained silent.

"Because she recognized that I did the best that I would in the situation, that there was nothing more that I could've done, that it was out of my control. And that is why Jason forgave you. Jason understands what it feels like when the circumstances are out of control more than anyone. Jason realized that you did everything that you could. Jason realizes that you cared, and that's more than most people in his life have ever done."

Avery knew that Bruce needed time to process her words. She headed up to her room. She changed out of her work uniform into her pajamas and grabbed the novel she was reading, before heading back downstairs. She went and grabbed a bottle of wine for herself and a glass and returned to where Bruce was still sitting.

She went to the bar cart and poured Bruce a scotch, handing it to him, before sitting down. "Drink, it'll help you go to sleep, or you can go until you blackout, whichever comes first."

She sat down with her wine and book and got comfy.

"Thank you, Avery," Bruce finally said after a while, sipping at the drink in his hand.

Avery nodded. "You're welcome."

The two sat in silence, until finally Bruce stood up. "You should head to bed soon," he said. "You've had a long day."


End file.
